


ethereal

by fiveyaaas



Series: when autumn comes [27]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: (more implied than anything), Amnesia, Complicated Relationships, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Mirror Sex, Older Man/Younger Woman, Pseudo-Incest, Rough Sex, Sex Work, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:14:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27335509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiveyaaas/pseuds/fiveyaaas
Summary: His eyes immediately landed on the burlesque dancer. One whose face looked entirely like the one on a book he had been carrying in his pocket for forty years.In a trance, he walked to her.
Relationships: Number Five | The Boy/Vanya Hargreeves
Series: when autumn comes [27]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1941919
Comments: 3
Kudos: 69
Collections: Harcest Fall Festival: Fiveya Kinktober 2020





	ethereal

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Coldstares](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coldstares/gifts).



> Gifting this to Blue Sam. His love for Old Man Five is awe-inspiring, and I appreciate his shitposting so much.

He had intended to land in Dallas at a pub a few days after when he landed, but he had felt a sudden urgency to go a little earlier, one he assumed was because of his reluctance to the Handler’s offer in his ear about what he could do before he began the mission. He didn’t intend to sleep with her until it was a last resort in going home, and he’d be dangling that metaphorical carrot for at least a few more years. When he said that he would have to scout out the area of Dallas beforehand, he was well aware she knew it was bullshit, but she had simply said  _ “so thorough”  _ and pinched his arm. 

He wondered if killing the Handler would be as satisfying as when he fantasizes about it. 

He landed at the pub, but he went around and searched places that would be key to his mission. When he happened upon Jack Ruby’s club, he walked inside, scanning the place over for anything of note.

His eyes immediately landed on the burlesque dancer. One whose face looked entirely like the one on a book he had been carrying in his pocket for forty years. 

In a trance, he walked to her. There was no way it was  _ her _ . She wasn’t in the Commission, he was well aware none of his family members were after searching through files on them, and there was no way that she had developed powers to time travel. He was pretty certain none of them could develop the same exact powers to one another, anyways. 

But she  _ looked _ like her. He had no doubt she was just a dead ringer for her until he saw a scar on her ankle as he sat in front of her. Vanya had one just like it from an incident with Diego (one that truly ended with Diego having a broken nose and three sprained fingers after training the next day.) 

He tried to search for the birthmark that would confirm what he was dreading. What game was the Handler playing by putting her here?

When she turned around to speak to a man beside her, he saw the birthmark, and he felt sick. 

She turned around again, “Sir, are you okay?”

There was no recognition on her face. He hoped it was just that she didn’t recognize him after all these years. He was much older; Vanya wouldn’t recognize him likely. As subtle as he could, he laid his jacket against his chair, tugging up his sleeves so she could see the tattoo on his skin. 

Her eyes zeroed in on it, but they weren’t filled with recognition. It was like she was confused by it. 

She turned away again, resuming dancing that did not fit with his image of Vanya at all. 

She was glancing towards the back, trying to signal another dancer, he realized. Her shift was likely about to end. 

When she got off the platform and was replaced by a blonde woman, he was surprised when she grabbed him by the wrist, but he followed her willingly. They reached a dark corner of the club, concealed pretty well in plain sight. He wondered why she thought there was need for this to be private, studying her features. 

“That tattoo,” she said, pointing at it. “What is it?”

“An umbrella?” 

She groaned like this upset her. “I keep seeing those, keep getting this deja-vu…”

She seemed to realize she was speaking to a stranger, confusing him as she turned around and started muttering to herself, tugging at the strands of her hair that fell in waves down her back.

“Vanya?” He asked, worried. 

She stopped moving completely. Only when he said her name again did she turn around, wide eyed. 

“You know who I am?” she breathed, grabbing his wrist again. He wondered if he should tell her that grabbing him without prompting was a dangerous game, but he was starting to get a little irritated with her for whatever game she was playing already.

“Yes, Vanya,” he drawled. “I know who you are.” 

“What did the Russians do to me?” Her fingers were digging into his wrist, and he realized she must not be playing the violin with how long her fingernails were at the moment. He knew she wasn’t lying, that she really had no idea here.

“You know your name,” he clarified bluntly, mainly to measure her reactions. “What else do you know?”

“Nothing… just flashes of images. How do you know me?”

He didn’t know how to answer that, but he opened his mouth to try. 

“Are you my boyfriend?”

Clearing his throat, he shook his head fervently. 

“You’re my husband then.”

He opened his mouth to speak again, but then some customer was trying to get her attention. The guy was clearly plastered, reaching out to slap her on her backside before Five had his wrist pulled back, making the man gasp out in pain, face going white as he tried to struggle against Five’s vice-like grip.

After hearing the satisfying snap of the bones in the man’s arm, Five quickly pulled Vanya to his chest, muttering to her, “Lean against me.”

She looked confused, but she seemed to sense the urgency of his tone, and he blinked them to the alley beside the club. 

In the light of the moon that would fall many years later, what she was wearing became apparent. 

“I’m not your husband,” he said, quickly. “I’m your brother.”

She looked confused. “What does your tattoo mean?”

“You said you remembered seeing umbrellas, right? When you get some memories, are they ever in them?”

“There was a gate with one…” Her voice was small. He realized she was scared. 

“It’s not anything to do with the Russians,” he said, which he had assumed she had been working towards. He wondered how long she had been there that she was thinking exactly like a person of the Cold War Era. It made sense if she had amnesia that she wouldn’t think anachronistically of the time though. “You were raised at… a boarding school. It was a sort of an insignia for us?”

“You went to school with me?” Her tone was colored in disbelief. 

He didn’t have time to explain time travel to her; he didn’t even know if she would believe it if he did. 

“You went under very specific circumstances,” he said vaguely.

“You have powers too, I can see that,” she said, gesturing to where they were standing, how they had gotten there. He couldn’t focus on that though, he was perplexed by what she had just said. 

“Too?” 

She frowned at him. “ _ You’re _ a spy,” she accused. 

“No, Vanya, I’m just Five.”

“You’re working for the FBI then.”

He scowled, realizing this was one of those rare instances he wouldn’t have minded having a real name as opposed to a number. “I’m not FBI.”

“Then who are you?”

“Your brother,” he insisted. 

She glared at him. “Brothers don’t look at sisters the way you look at me.”

He didn’t speak. She wasn’t entirely wrong there.

She had her arms around his neck, but he didn’t move. Even if Vanya strangled him, he wouldn’t fight back. 

She didn’t try to strangle him. Her lips pressed to his, tongue slipping into his mouth. He opened his mouth willingly, groaning at the taste of her. As he reached down to cup her ass, she pulled away from his mouth but kept her body against him. 

“That’s not how a brother would react,” she said, very subtly grinding against the bulge forming in his trousers, more like she was trying to further solidify her point than anything else. “Tell me who you are, and don’t lie this time.”

“I’m not lying, Vanya,” he said, wishing that he was. If he were lying about any of this, and Vanya was just a random woman at a bar, he would feel no guilt indulging in what he very much wanted in this instant. 

“How did you teleport?” Her eyes were narrowed.

“I have… like you said, a power.”

“Then why did you act surprised by mine?”

He wondered if it was too much to hand her her book, warm in his pocket. “You didn’t ever manifest one when I was a member of the Academy.”

“I don’t know if I can now,” she said. “It’s only when I’m scared, when it gets too loud… I was sent out of a home after I broke a window, and I couldn’t even explain why. I started working here, and…”

“When did you get here?” He tried to gentle his voice, imagining she was overwhelmed. 

“Four months ago.” Her voice was so hollow. 

“No one found you ever?” 

She shook her head. “Are you really my brother?”

“That could be a word one would use, yes.”

She frowned. “What do you mean?”

“We weren’t exactly adopted, not legally. We call each other siblings mainly because there’s not really any other word, certainly not one that’d be encouraged by Father.”

“Is Father… the head of the school?”

“That’s one way to describe it.”

“Is that why you look at me that way then?”

He didn’t know how to say why he looked at Vanya in any particular way. He had always just looked at Vanya without schooling his features into something else. Vanya was safe to be honest with, always. 

“You’re really not my husband?” He didn’t know if there was disappointment in her tone. He shook his head. “And you’re not working for some secret organization?”

“Not one that would put me in leagues with you.” If she found out in any way about the Commission and he lied about something like that, she would never trust him to bring her home, which he was now trying to figure out how to do.

He did not want to acknowledge the clear reason Vanya was here. The Handler had put her there as a test, wiped her memories almost entirely. Vanya was to be a test of loyalty, and he knew it. 

But he would never lie about being loyal to his Vanya anyways. 

“You feel familiar,” she whispered. She blushed. “I remember a boy, but he never got older in the fragments… the others did though... you said ‘when’ you were a member. Did you leave?”

He nodded, feeling the guilt fill his chest. She didn’t even know to be mad at him. 

“Why am I here?” 

“I don’t know, Vanya.” 

“Can you take me home?”

“I can try.”

She kissed him again, and he jerked his head away, worried why she would do that still. “Vanya-“

“You’ll take me home? If I do this?”

He recoiled in horror. “I wouldn’t expect you to do  _ that _ in exchange for… I’m not a monster.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time,” she said, like this helped assure him. It didn’t. He just wanted to kill whoever took advantage of her when she had no memories. What was she searching for those times- money, food, shelter?

“Vanya, I wouldn’t-“

“I just want to go home.” 

“I’ll get you home,” he promised. He wasn’t going to let her struggle any longer. 

She reached for him again, and he gently disentangled her hand. “That won’t be necessary, Vanya.” He hoped she didn’t hear the frantic note of his voice, the horror at the realization that Vanya was selling herself to survive. 

He was going to kill the Handler for putting her there, especially for manipulating her mind into having unclear memories. Five would torture the Handler until she wished she had no memories, either, for hurting Vanya. 

“I want to thank you somehow,” she said when he started guiding her to the hotel he planned on staying. He would have her read her book while he worked on equations to bring them home that wouldn’t require a briefcase. He could sleep on the floor- who knows when she slept on an actual bed last?

His stomach turned again at the thought.

“No need to thank me, Vanya,” he said quietly. 

“We weren’t married-“

“No,” he interrupted before she could ask again. 

“Were we together at all?”

He thought of the stolen kisses in walk-in closets off one of the hallways near the dining room. Of holding hands after she played a piece and he began to get frustrated with his equations. Of her shaking her head fervently, urging him silently not to leave that day at thirteen. 

“We were best friends,” he said. This was true, but not the entire truth. 

“Is there something wrong with me? That you don’t want to touch me?”

He flinched. “No, Vanya.”

He didn’t know why she was so insistent about it. Each time she mentioned this, it felt like she was hammering a nail just a bit further into his heart. 

“So you would touch me?” 

He didn’t answer; his mouth tasted like ash for the first time in years. 

“Would you touch me if I asked you to?”

He kept his mouth sealed. 

“If I wanted it for nothing more than just for you to touch me?”

“Vanya, you don’t even know who I am, really,” he snapped. 

“You won’t then?”

It was a familiar tone. She sounded the way she had when the others rejected her. The sad, dejected voice when she felt that no one wanted her.

He was a bastard, but he wasn’t going to let her think she was unwanted. Softly, very softly, he kissed the top of her head. “Maybe one day.”

She didn’t take this for an answer. She tugged on his tie, pulling him down to her face, and she kissed him properly. 

He didn’t pull away, but he didn’t exactly respond at all. She pulled away, eyes narrowed at him in confusion. “Do you not want me?” 

“I want you,” he admitted. It was just them. They were outside the hotel now. “But you don’t know me, Vanya, it’s wrong.”

“I know that I trust you enough to follow you,” she countered. “I know I want this.”

“Vanya.”

“Please, Five, for me?”

Did she know that she had asked him to help her with that phrasing many times before? Vanya had always added, “for me,” when she really wanted something. Did she phrase it that way for anyone, or did she recognize on some subconscious level? She had mentioned a boy, one that would never grow older with her. She knew him in some ways. Did she remember the nights she hid in his room after a nightmare? Did she remember trips to Griddy’s and grandiose discussions of leaving the mansion? Did she remember that they were each other’s sole confidantes, as she had worded their relationship in her book?

“You don’t want this just because you want me to bring you home?”

“I want to go home, but I want this too.”

“You’re certain?”

“You’re the first thing I’m certain about in four months,” she mumbled, and he nodded. He got them a room, leaving Hargreeves for a name, and she smiled. He wondered if she knew her last name, or if she was smiling because she had just learned. He took her hand, and the receptionist at the desk raised a brow, clearly confused about the age difference. Five was deeply annoyed that the 60’s could be so sexist towards women but he could still get judgemental looks for walking around with Vanya. He made a point to kiss Vanya while the receptionist still had them in her sight. 

“She thinks I’m a prostitute,” Vanya told him as they walked up the stairs. He would have teleported, but he really had to be a little more stealthy here. 

“Why do you think that?” He kept an arm around her waist, frowning at the steepness of these stairs and wondering if it was a shady place or if they didn’t have codes on slope specifications in this era yet. It was hard to know small details like this as a time traveler; frequently, he would find himself disgusted by something that would be unhygienic in modern eras. 

“She’s seen me here before with another man,” she commented, and he scowled. 

“Did you ever think of me in a brotherly way?” Her voice wasn’t judgemental, just curious really. 

“Maybe when we were very young?” 

“How are you older than me?”

“Are you going to believe me?”

“Yeah, I’ll try, at least.”

“I’m from the future. You are too. You shouldn’t be here.”

She didn’t even blink, just nodded, considering. “So were you traveling time longer?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I don’t know when you even got here,  _ how _ you got here. I suspect it’s… I work for a place, that would hurt you, I imagine, if they knew how I felt and were inclined to… test me.” 

“Will they know where we are?”

He shrugged. “It’s a possibility. We’ll be leaving tomorrow though, I just have to run some numbers. I’ll have you read a book while I do, might help your memories. The copy is… annotated. But it should be mostly legible.”

She frowned. “What book?”

“Your memoir. I can’t attest for what happened past thirteen, but you can ask me questions as you read and I will explain anything you’re unclear on or add details you may not have included.”

“I wrote a memoir?”

“It was good,” he complimented. “I imagine it pissed off the others, but they tend to be irrational on good days.”

Vanya was already undressing herself as the door clicked shut behind them. He didn’t comment, just pulled his tie off in a fluid motion, shrugging off his jacket that he had put back on when he had left the club. They didn’t have much time to prolong this.

Her angelic, ethereal body was on complete display for him when she mumbled, “Five?”

“Yeah?” He had completely unbuttoned his shirt, and he was starting to drop it to the floor when she had spoken. 

“What was I like?” 

Her voice was so small. She was devastatingly beautiful, long soft hair touching the tips of her small breasts, just over dusty pink nipples. Her skin was even, almost porcelain, except for scars and birthmarks scattered against it. Most of the scars on her body he recognized, knew the story behind, even if she did not. He wanted her to know. 

He dropped his shirt down, trudging to her, letting her be aware that he was drawing near. He reached forward, running a finger over her navel, watching the way goosebumps formulate as she shivered. “Do you trust me?” His voice was nothing more than a breath, but she heard, and he watched in fascination as her nipples hardened as his breath fanned her cheek. 

She nodded, weakly, and he scooped her up, walking her to the bathroom and laying her against the sink, cursing the sixties for the trend of having barely any counter space and resolving to hold her up. He wanted her to see herself in the mirror though, felt it was necessary that she  _ saw _ herself as he told her. With the way she was bent, her ass brushed over his trousers, and he stepped out of his shoes before pulling his pants and underwear off. They were both naked then, his erection poking her thigh.

He gripped her chin, tipping it to the mirror to stare at herself, keeping his hold on her with his right hand steady. He wanted the tattooed arm to be the one that touched her, an impulse he could likely analyze if he really wanted, but he didn’t care; he was trained to be ambidextrous, after all. 

He pulled her hair back, over her shoulder so her neck was exposed. He wanted to nip at her collarbone, but he had a mission now. He ran a finger over the slightly purple scar under her ear, and she jerked her ass backward, seeking friction. “This,” he gasped, grinding back. “Is where our brother Klaus tried to curl your hair, and he burned you with a curling iron.”

“Did it at least turn out well?” She was trying to sound unaffected. He didn’t want her to sound unaffected though, wanted to hear her react, so he smacked her ass quickly, making her yelp. 

“It looked lovely, once you stopped crying,” he said, smoothing his hand over the reddening area gently. She tried to ask him to spank her again, but he just kissed the spot on her neck, trailing his lips to her spine.

He ran his finger over her stomach again, pointing to a scar on the side, moving to brush over the marked skin. “You got appendicitis when you were eleven,” he said. “This scar is from the surgery.”

She shivered, and he knew where she wanted his hand. He could tell her just a little more about herself with her scars though, could clue her in to things not written in her book. Once he was inside of her, then he’d tell her the details that had nothing to do with the scars covering her skin, but he was going to be patient, follow through with his new mission.

His finger ran down her leg, reaching her ankle. “This was from where Diego was being a shithead and a knife grazed your ankle. Don’t worry, he apologized.”

“After you broke his nose,” her voice was muffled by where she was pressed to the mirror. He pulled her chin back, filling with a hope so vast, that she would remember, even if it was not even something she was saying consciously. It had spilled from her lips. The memories were  _ there _ , just hidden behind the depths of her mind. He pushed his thigh up, letting her grind against and feeling how wet she was. 

“Very good, Vanya,” he praised. “And, yes, after I broke his nose, he apologized.”

She whimpered under his praise, clearly realizing she had just had a memory. He could  _ smell  _ how aroused she was, so they could shelve the progress for later. He moved his hand back to her ass, slipping between her thighs to brush against her clit, rewarding her for the memory before moving back to continue his work. 

He grabbed one of her hands, running his fingers over the familiar calluses, rolling his hips against her as he did. 

“You’re a violinist,” he ground out, more aroused by this encounter than he remembered being aroused in his entire life. 

She laced their fingers together. “Was I good?” 

He saw his tattooed wrist against her arm, and he jerked his hips forward. “You were. You improved vastly as time went on, but I used to love to listen to you play for me. You only ever played privately for me, you know.”

“Five?”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

She made a small noise at the endearment. “I want you inside me.”

He wasn’t going to argue with her on that, he guided himself to her entrance, and she jerked against him. She was soaked, feeling delightful as just his tip was coated in the slick. 

“ _ Please _ ,” she grounded in, and he pushed fully inside. They both gasped, and he flicked his gaze into the mirror, to watch him towering over her, to watch the way her face screwed up as she moaned. He pulled out almost entirely before slamming back inside. 

He pressed his hand under her chin, making her watch too. “You were sweet,” he spit out, pulling out again. As he pushed back inside, “ _ Shy _ .”

“ _ Five. _ ”

He moved to where both of his hands were holding up her thighs then, making the angle just a little better for both of them and sighing, “You could be resentful too, sometimes. When you got angry, though I never told you this, it filled me with such pride.”

“Why?” Her voice was soft, curious. He thrust into her again, rough. 

“I liked that you were standing up for yourself.” His features looked feral in the mirror, and he hoped he wasn’t scaring her with the intensity. 

“Did you stand up for me too?” 

“Not nearly enough,” he admitted, apologetic. 

“Do you love me?” Her voice was so small, so demure. 

_ “Yes.” _

“Do you know if I love you? Or if I did?”

“I don’t know.” He had to be honest here. “I know that I wanted you to.”

“I can’t imagine not loving you,” she blurted, and he rutted into her, borderline animalistic, at the way she was willing to trust him enough to admit something like that. 

“Good, I’m glad,” he responded, past much coherent thought. He moved his hand between them, to finger against her clit, hoping it will urge her to finish with him. Apparently, she was more worked up than he had thought because she choked out that she was close before his finger had even pressed down. When he did press down, she clenched around him and he hissed at the feeling. 

“I love you, Vanya,” he growled, and she whimpered out, asking him to come inside her. He obeyed, gasping as he felt himself spill inside of his Vanya. 

“You’re crying,” she said, glancing up at the mirror. 

“You are too,” he pointed out, petulant. She moved back, trying to get him to get her off of the sink, which he did, scooping her back up. She nuzzled into his neck, running her finger over his tears. 

He walked them to the bed of the hotel, resting her against the pillows. Seeing her sprawled out though, he asked, pleaded really, “Can I eat you out, Vanya?”

She blushed, but she rested against the pillows, spreading her legs for him. He saw the cum trailing down her leg, and he pushed it back inside of her, making her whimper but making her bite out, almost bratty, “It won’t be there much longer anyways.”

He smirked at her, proud of the confidence. He kissed all over her thighs, waiting until she was gripping his hair and guiding him to her cunt before he licked inside of her. 

“This feels arrogant of you somehow,” Vanya commented, scratching his scalp in a way that soothed him as he lapped up the mixture of their cum. He hummed against her, daring her to make more comments about it mentally so he would have cause to draw it out longer. 

“I’m not arguing,” she whimpered, like she could read where his thoughts were going. He bit her clit, and she yelped, not able to make any more petulant comments. He slipped two fingers inside of her, to the knuckle, with no resistance. She trembled against him, and he listened to her yell out completely nonsensical words. It felt like the room was shaking, which he didn’t understand, and he glanced up at the cracks in the wall before glancing at her. Strong emotions caused her powers, indeed.

He put his head back to her cunt, licking more urgently. He wanted to see if he could get her to bring the entire hotel down. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!


End file.
